The Dragonborn Comes
by Azaisya
Summary: A Nord man sitting in an inn decides to have a little fun with the mysterious Imperial girl sitting in the corner. But this Imperial is far more powerful than he ever could've known. "You'll know, you'll know, the Dragonborn comes. . . ." Oneshot, no pairings.


**Another oneshot featuring my Imperial Dragonborn, Sylrina. This one isn't from her POV, and is just me having fun with characters. This is after the Companions questline, when Sylrina runs off to join the Dark Brotherhood and accidentally starts the main questline. Enjoy!**

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The blond man sat in the corner of the inn, surveying the people over the top of his tankard. He didn't live here, exactly. He was simply . . . passing through. Wilhelm, the innkeeper, wasn't even looking at the man — he was watching the bard, Lynly Star-Sung, as she played her flute.

The man's eyes rested upon the only other person who was sitting silently in the shadows; she was wearing some kind of variant of leather armor, skintight and black and red, but her hood was down, revealing black hair that had been plaited neatly. A tankard was clutched in her gloved hands, but she wasn't drinking. Her obsidian eyes darted around the inn uneasily, suspicion visible behind them.

The man stood up and walked over to her, leaning his hands on the table. She was Imperial. But that was alright. The Nord girls tended to put up a bit of a fight. "Hello, my pretty," he sneered.

The woman stiffened, and one hand went to the dagger at her side. That was alright, too. She only had a _dagger _(steel, from the looks of it), and she was a petite girl. Something like _her_ could hardly hurt a Nord like him. "Go away if you know what's good for you," she told him calmly, her dark eyes staring unblinkingly into his own blue ones.

That should've scared him. But what scared him more was the fact that there was no fear in her eyes. _Still_, he thought, _she's just a girl. What can she possibly do?_ "I think I'll stay," he said lazily, sliding into the seat next to her.

She smirked at him. "That wouldn't be good for your health." There was an icy coldness in her voice that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. _Who was she? _Emotionless eyes traveled up and down his body before she sniffed in disdain. "You're all brawn, no brain."

Angrily, he stood up. "What did you say?" Best to intimidate her now, before she got too cocky.

She smiled icily at him. Then she sang a line of a song everybody knew. "'Our hero, our hero claims a warrior's heart'." She stood up and swung her legs over the table, so that she was next to him.

"Are you challenging me?" he snarled, looking down on her. Really, he towered over her! If she was even the slightest bit intelligent, she would back down.

Her smirk widened. "What makes you think I would challenge an idiot like you?"

The man roared in anger and lunged at her, hands outstretched. Fast as a snake, she darted underneath him and away. His hands grasped empty air and he whirled around. "Fight me, you coward!"

But she just continued singing, "'I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes.'" She ducked as his fist swung towards her head, a look of savage pleasure visible on her face. "With a voice wielding power of the ancient Nord art."

He could hear the other people in the inn exclaiming and moving away. But all he saw was the little Imperial milk-drinker. When she evaded yet another blow, he shouted and drew his axe. Now the other people were crying out in fear.

"'Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes!'" She drew her dagger, and lunged away from him, lips drawn back in a wolf-like snarl.

What did the Dragonborn have to do with any of this? There was no way she was going to be able to get close enough to even prick him with her dagger. Swinging the axe wildly towards her, half-blinded by his need to kill her, he didn't see where he was swinging.

"'It's an end to the evil, to all of Skyrim's foes.'" She tucked into a ball and rolled under his legs. His axe hit the wall and Wilhelm cried out.

"You little—"

"'Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes!'" A chair slammed into his back and he roared as pain shot through him. "'For the darkness has passed, and the legend yet grows!'" Her voice had gained power. Was she used to doing this, or something?

_Legend yet grows?_ Something stirred inside him, memories of hearing tales of the famous Dragonborn returning. This girl couldn't be the famed Nord hero, right? She wasn't even a Nord! Fear started to grow in him as she kicked her feet out under his legs. He went down hard, and she leaned over him, her knee pressed between his shoulder blades.

He shivered as he felt the icy touch of her dagger against his neck. _How had she done it?_

Softly, just above his ear, she sang, "'You'll know, you'll know. The Dragonborn's come.'" And then she danced off of him.

Horrified, he rolled over, to see her exiting the inn. He couldn't have just angered the Dragonborn. There was no way that girl was _Dragonborn_. Several terrifying moments later, and a voice echoed through Ivarstead. A voice that chilled his bones and shook the very earth.

"_FUS RO DAH_!"

The Shout of a dragon.

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